


Where Pomegranates Grow

by sepulchreofsongs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, M/M, a NICE version of the myth though, based off the myth of persephone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:20:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepulchreofsongs/pseuds/sepulchreofsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a story about the seasons, and two boys who fell in love.  </p><p>For SASO 2016 Myth and Lore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Pomegranates Grow

“Kenma? Kenma?”

Poppies and wildflowers rose above, clouding his vision. He blinks at a light blue sky, only dotted by a few puffy white clouds. He sighs in time with a slight breeze, but Kenma can’t be bothered to move, can’t be bothered to rise from the overgrown green.

He waits, still and quiet as though that’s anything from his default state, until the voice fades. He sits up with mild curiosity, resting on his elbows. He blows a half-toned strand from his nose as his eyes fly around the empty field. There are a few birds, butterflies, but he doesn’t see any pesky attendants, so he drops back onto the dirty ground. He doesn’t expect someone to be behind him, stooped over him, though. The man grins, lopsided, and Kenma can only blink, throat closed and dry.

“Hey,” the man says, golden eyes piercing with miniscule pupils. “Got room for one more?”

Kenma can only nod.

The main lays down so his head is next to Kenma’s, their bodies perfectly parallel. He folds his hands onto his stomach mildly, and Kenma cab only note that his robes are dark colored, as opposed to Kenma’s white, scrunched around his thighs.

“Am I intruding your privacy?” The man flicks his gaze to Kenma’s.

Kenma hums for a moment. “Only a little.”

The man looks surprised by that. “Oh, shit, I can leave if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kenma isn’t sure why he’s suddenly holding onto the man’s arm, but he can’t meet his gaze anymore.

“Hm. Alright,” the man says, softly. “Oh, my name is Kuroo.”

“Kenma,” he replies.

“I know,” Kuroo flashes a grin. “I’ve kinda seen you around. You seem to prefer this- when people leave you alone, rather than all that flashy god shit.”  
“You know I’m a god?” Kenma looks to him, eyes wide.

“I mean, yeah,” Kuroo shrugs, moving so his arms are behind his head. “I’m one too.”

“Kuroo, god of the Underworld, at your service.”

\----  
Kenma would like to say that he never meets with Kuroo again, that he’s a good son and never goes to the field of poppies and death ever again. 

He would like to.

But really, he can’t. Kuroo enraptures him like no one else. He seems confident, rambunctious, but he reigns it in a way that seems natural to Kenma. He never oversteps boundaries, he respects Kenma’s need for silence.

A lot of afternoons are spent in silence in that field.

One afternoon, Kuroo says he has something to show Kenma. He takes his wrist like it’s nothing, leads Kenma up through a hill, past some trees and roots, and not even an hour later they’re sitting on a hilltop, overlooking the entire city and offering a prime view of the temple Kenma, god of springtime and flowers, lives in with his family. 

 

Kenma can’t help but gasp in wonder.  
He watches as everyone bustles about in their days, over how many people there are in the city. He’s never suspected, despite having lived there his whole life.

"Huh," he says, a huff of air past full lips. "It's. Pretty."

Kuroo laughs, a low, guwaffing thing. "Just pretty? It's kinda marvelous in my opinion."

Kenma turns to look him fully in the face. There’s a slight air of melancholy there, maybe even envy.

"There's not- it's not like this in the Underworld," Kuroo mutters, a sad smile touching his lips and flattening his eyes. He raises a hand to ruffle his hair. "There's certainly not so many people. It's just. Me and some souls, I guess."

"Sounds lonely," Kenma says, if only to catch the flash of distaste that flashes over Kuroo's features.

"Hm, I suppose." His smile is forced. "But it's alright, I can come here. I can see you."

There’s a pause before his last sentence that Kenma can scarcely ignore. 

They stand in silence for a while, content to watch the civilian's days. 

"Y'know," Kenma says, just above a whisper. "It's not so great down there."

This seems to just barely peek at Kuroo's interest. "Oh?"

Kenma hums. "Yeah. Down there, my mom dotes on me with an unwavering eye. I know she means the best, I know she just doesn't want me to get hurt, but it's aggravating. I just want to... be alone, I suppose."

"You're sure with me an awful lot," Kuroo supplies.

"Hm, but that doesn't count. You're relaxing," Kenma avoids the totally genuine shit-eating grin Kuroo is giving him. "Everyone else has expectations. Things they want from me. I just want to be here, exist."

"That doesn't seem too unreasonable." Kuroo nods, then an idea seems to pass through his features, lightening every single one. His eyes are bright, his teeth flashing as his lips pull up on bright cheeks. "Hey, Kenma." 

"Yeah?"

"Come with me," he says, "Come with me to the Underworld."

Kenma whips his head to look at him, eyes wide and mouth open in a slight 'O'. Kuroo can't be serious. That'd be disrupting the natural order, a god like him living in the Underworld.

But Kenma desperately wants to.

Kuroo reaches for his hand, squeezes it. "You wouldn't be able to come back, though. So, you don't have to give me an answer. Not now, not ever if you don't want to."

Kenma nods, and they leave it at that, holding hands and watching the city bustles below them.

\----

That night, Kenma can't think of anything else. Go to the Underworld... live there with Kuroo, away from prying eyes, away from endless noise and intrusions.

Away from the few people he cares about.

One of those people, Yaku, comes through his door with a tray of food. "Lady Demeter wanted you to have this since you missed dinner."

Kenma mumbles thanks, pulls his knees up to his chin tighter. 

"Y'know," Yaku says, setting down the tray, "You've been weird lately."

"Have I?" Kenma picks at a grape.

Yaku gives him a narrow stare. "You know you have, you little shit. You've been sneaking away lately, giving Lady Demeter a fucking heart attack. Where've you even been going?"

"Nowhere really," Kenma avoids his eyes, finding it easy to lie to Yaku. Easier than it is to hide from Kuroo.

Yaku huffs and rolls his eyes. "Well, you know we all care about you, right?"

"Yeah," Kenma says, in a bored tone. 

He just isn't sure it’s enough.

The silence between them isn't as comfortable as it was between Kenma and Kuroo but it’s something. Familiar if nothing else. 

Kenma pops the grape between his lips. "Hey, Yaku?"

Yaku springs up immediately. "Yes, Lord Kenma?"

"Is love enough for someone to abandon everything? To abandon everyone else they love, for that chance at a love that lasts forever? For someone who makes them so comfortable that everything else pales?"

"I..." Yaku starts, surprised beyond everything it seems, "I'm sorry, that's the most I've ever heard you say at once, Lord Kenma. But..." He pauses, seems to consider it. "Having someone to love seems the most important, I think."

"Does it?" Kenma asks. His pupils are pinpricks against wide gold that glitters against the moonlight. His hair is brushed back by the night air, his skill an ethereal smooth. It emphasizes the whole being of his godhood that if pointed out, would embarrass him to no end.

"Yeah," Yaku says, sitting down next to Kenma, in a way that he had insisted wasn't too familiar between two friends long ago. "I recently discovered that I'd probably give up anything for love."

"Are you talking about Lev, the new attendant?" Kenma turns to him with too knowing eyes that make him turn away with a blush.

"Perhaps," Yaku laughs a little, embarrassed. "I guess that's what I mean. I know it's against the rules though, so if you choose to report it to Lady Demeter I won't be mad."

"I would never do that to you, Yaku," Kenma says softly. "You deserve to be happy."

Yaku hums at that, and they both sit there for a while longer.

"Yaku," Kenma says, "I might do it. I might give it all up for love."

Yaku places his hand over Kenma's. "I wouldn't blame you, my Lord."

\----

A few weeks later, and Kenma senses a shift in Kuroo's behavior. It's not really in his words or actions, but in his mannerisms. He seems antsy, anticipating. It only takes Kenma a moment, really, to figure out why.

Kenma doesn't bring it up at first. Instead, he tugs on Kuroo's hand. 

"Show me somewhere new," he says.

Kuroo's eyelids flutter in surprise, but a grin soon springs across skin, natural and genuine. He laces his fingers with Kenma's and says, "I have just the place."

There's a batch of thorns that slow them down for a moment, only if Kuroo has to check and make certain Kenma is unhurt by them. The rest of the course is smooth sailing, or walking rather. They approach a cave carved from smooth light grey rock, and Kenma tenses in a way Kuroo notices, and he wraps a protective arm around him as well.

There's a light at the end of the cave, making the rocks flash with a white highlight. 

Kuroo murmurs, "This is my favorite place on Earth."

Kenma presses closer to him, anxious in a positive way for once. The light brightens for a moment, then as they get closer it overwhelms everything else.

They pass through, and Kenma has to blink away the light. 

It's a small pond, a sizable oasis, really, with grass and flowers scattered along the banks, and a small waterfall splashing over a rock wall.

It's sunny and quiet but for the babbling of the waterfall, and Kenma figures he can forgive that. He lets go of Kuroo's hand without a thought and steps forward, eyes trying to memorize every inch of this sanctuary.

He then turns back to Kuroo and tugs on his hand, pulls him to the edge of the water. He starts to pull of his tunic, then nudges Kuroo when he doesn't follow suit.

"Join me," Kenma says, and it's not a question, not really. Kuroo doesn't mind, though. He blinks into a smile and takes off his tunic with ease. Kenma pointedly tries to ignore how good he looks and tries to pretend it's no different when he tugs on his hand to guide him into the water.

They wade into the middle of the oasis, kicking lightly to stay afloat. They hold both hands in each other’s', and Kuroo is looking at him with a look that Kenma can't really place, but it makes him turn away and blush. He doesn't get a chance to for long, though, because Kuroo frees a hand, brushes his hair from his face, and turns Kenma's jaw gently to look at him.

They're closer than before and it makes Kenma's breath stall, before Kuroo leans in further, so their lips are barely an inch apart. At this moment, Kuroo's breath stalls, but Kenma has recovered, and it's Kenma who closes the final distance, pressing his lips to Kuroo's.

Kuroo sighs into it, relief and love clear in the breath, and Kenma has to fight the twitch of his lips, knowing Kuroo would feel it against his own. Kuroo pulls away after a moment, and opens his mouth to say something, but Kenma beats him to it.

"I want to. Go with you to the Underworld, that is. I want to go." Kenma looks at him, seriously.

Kuroo lets out a shuddering breath, shoulders curling in a little. "Thank the gods, oh gods."

\----

When Kenma is finally there, he can understand why Kuroo was lonely. It's dark, for one thing, and in the halls you can hear the faint cries of the dead. But he doesn't regret his choice, not for a moment. He loves Kuroo, especially when he hears that he'd been using a massive amount of magic to see Kenma, and he honestly couldn't keep it up much longer, hence why he'd been antsy. 

A few peaceful weeks later, Demeter comes hailing, and gods is she furious. Kuroo, that sleazebag, the God of the Underworld, stole her son, her precious son right out from under her. Kuroo argues though, that Kenma can't leave the Underworld now, at least not for long. Kenma hides behind his love as they argue. He peeks at Yaku who stands just slightly behind Demeter and gives him a small smile and nod.

"I want my son back for six months a year, surely you can manage that." She raises her chin. "If not, I'm sure we could talk to Zeus about it."

A terrified gleam worms its way into Kuroo's eyes. "That's fine, that's fine! No need to involve Zeus."

Demeter gives an approving nod, coos at her son for a moment longer, and then returns to the surface, attendants in tow.

Kuroo slumps, sighs. "I'm sorry, Kenma. But hey, at least you can see your family and friends. You won't have to be cooped up here with me for eternity."

Kenma pats at his face, his hair. "You say that as though I don't love you, as though I don't want to be here."

"You don't regret coming down here?" Kuroo's eyes flash up, worry transparent in them.

Kenma shakes his head, hair ruffling around his face, "How could I? I love you."

"I love you too," Kuroo sighs, pressing his forehead to Kenma's.

And that's how the stories of spring came to be, as a boy was stolen away from his mother. A half of the year she mourns, the trees lose all green, the ground frosts over, and crops die. The other half her son is home, and she blesses all the crops and the season is filled with light and warmth. All because two boys fell in love.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me  @persephonali  on twitter and i'll try not to be too embarrassed that i wrote a persephone-based story while having persephone-based usernames for everything and that i didn't make my thesis based on persephone and i'm not obsessed or anything


End file.
